This One's For You
by Beejy
Summary: Bonejangles and Emily would be perfect together. If only he wasn't oblivious and she hadn't just married some living guy. [Chapter IV up]
1. Chapter I

**This One's For You**

**Chapter I**

Above ground, the sun had set early on a frigid winter's day. Merchants and farmers alike had retreated to their homes, looking forward to a warm meal and an early bedtime. A very select few were aware of the wedding that was to occur the following day, merging the enterprising Van Dort family with the ostentatious Everglots, and to be honest, very few cared. Even if they had spared a thought for the carefully orchestrated marriage; or for the young couple that were being thrust into such an arrangement; or for the nervous young man who, at that very moment, was fleeing from the wedding rehearsal in a frenzied panic, not one of them would have guessed the wild events that were to follow. No one could have guessed how that chain of events would end up affecting each and every one of them, and that their sleepy little town was about to be turned on its head.

A few hundred feet below, directly underneath an ancient cemetery, the Ball and Socket was just beginning to liven up. Liven up, of course, was a technical term, as each and every customer now sitting in the ramshackle pub was deceased, and most had been for quite some time. From so far below ground, it was impossible to see the sun, which made any sort of time-telling device unreliable. Death made time rather meaningless, so this was rarely seen as a problem. Still, there was a certain rhythm that most of the inhabitants of the town had become so accustomed to in life that they had carried it on in death, and there remained an atmosphere of night and day that coincided nearly perfectly with the passing of the days above ground. Each night, as the sun set on the living world, the residents down below flocked to the Ball and Socket to eat and drink, despite the fact that these behaviours were entirely unnecessary for a bunch of corpses.

When Bonejangles, bandleader and essential owner of the Ball and Socket, came into the pub, he found a small crowd spread throughout the establishment. The tall skeleton grinned and nodded at a few of the patrons, but hastened to the kitchen in the back. He pushed open the swinging door and was immediately hit by the heat and noises that came from the room as the kitchen staff ran about frantically, preparing putrid food for the upcoming rush. In the midst of it all, stirring a large pot that smelled of an odd mix of musty soil and lilac, was a short, plump woman in an oversized chef's hat.

"Hey, Ms. P," Bonejangles said, grabbing a chair from the corner of the room and straddling it, letting his bowler hat fall over his empty eye socket.

Mrs. Plum was generally a no-nonsense but kind woman, who spent most of her time preparing meals and looking after the old pub. She didn't like to be interrupted during the busy dinner rush, and fixed Bonejangles with an irritated glare before turning to grab a large box of salt from the counter behind her. "Can I do something for you or are you just here to make a nuisance of yourself?"

Bonejangles put a hand to his chest and dropped his jaw in a gesture of mock-offense. "Why, Ms. P! How could ya' think such a thing? I would never!"

The woman narrowed her eyes at him before dumping the entire salt box into the pot. "You would, and you do."

Bonejangles merely grinned amusedly, leaning casually on the back of the chair. "I guess you know me better than I thought." He saw that she was growing impatient with him, so he kept talking. "But, nah, I just came to ask if you'd seen Emily around?"

"Can't say I have," Ms. Plum replied, without looking up from her cooking. "Why?"

"Just haven't seen her. Usually she comes 'round the B&S before the rush."

"Well, I wouldn't blame her," the dead woman scoffed. "I don't know why a sweet young girl like that would want to spend her time with scoundrels like _you _and _that band_." She gestured sternly at him with the wooden spoon in her hand, thrusting it towards his ribcage.

Bonejangles was hardly offended by Ms. Plum's harsh words. Seeing as he and his Bone Boys spent most of their time harassing and otherwise irritating the old cook, it was only fitting that she spent most of _her_ time deprecating them. Besides, he knew that deep down, the old broad was really fond of them.

"Anyway," he said, not bothering to respond to her jibe. "I went over to her place, but she wasn't up there either."

The stout woman, who had directed her spoon away from the skeleton to stir the contents of her pot once more, glanced back up at him, a knowing smile now etched across her features. "So, you've taken to stalking her, then?"

This time, the shocked look on Bonejangles' face was genuine. "What? She _always_ comes 'round the B&S! I was… I was just worried, s'all."

Ms. Plum shook her head, the shrewd smirk still plastered on her face. "She's a big girl, Bonejangles. I'm sure she just took to wandering in the outskirts of town."

"Guess so." The skeleton rested his head on his bony hand and stared thoughtfully at the opposite wall. After a few moments in which the only sounds in the room were that of clanging pots and hissing entrées, he looked up. "You notice that Em's been kinda depressed lately?"

Ms. Plum gave a pensive hum, then answered, "She's always a bit gloomy, the poor dear."

Bonejangles couldn't argue with that. The dead bride had profound bad moods, but had learned to enjoy herself despite the horrible memories of her murder years ago. She was prone to short bouts of sadness, but she was usually fun loving and cheerful, even if it _was_ partly due to her incessant hope of one day finding her "true love." Lately, though, she'd become withdrawn and dispirited. She was still at the Ball and Socket everyday, but even there she spent most of her time sitting at the bar by herself, reflecting sadly. Though she had refused to talk to anyone about what was bothering her, Bonejangles had been trying his damndest to cheer her up. He had even crooned to her shamelessly during one of the band's crowded late-night gigs in the hopes that she would come around, but all he had managed out of her was a very tiny appreciative grin that was followed by an immediate relapse into her former state.

"I dunno," he said. "Only time I seen her worse than this was right after she was killed, and that was a while ago."

Ms. Plum tapped her spoon on the side of the pot unconsciously. "I think that might be it."

"What? You think she's still upset about that Barkis jerk?"

She shook her head. "I _meant_ she's upset because it's been a while." Bonejangles stared at her, his utter confusion evident on his face. Ms. Plum rolled her eyes at him. She spoke deliberately, as if explaining something to a slow child. "When Emily died, she vowed she'd find a man that would love her. It's been years now and she's not found him yet." The tone of her voice changed then. Oddly, it sounded almost accusatory. "It's _no_ _wonder_ she's depressed." She stared hard at him, as if he'd done something wrong.

Bonejangles was so startled by her sudden shift in mood that he was starting to wonder if he had stepped into an alternate dimension. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

The short woman said nothing, but continued to glare at him with a look that reminded him vaguely of the one she gave him whenever he and the band drunkenly trashed the pub and "forgot" to pick up afterwards. This "you stupid idiot" look was the same in that he knew he was in trouble, and that he had absolutely no recollection as to why. Feeling somewhat nervous under her stare, he sheepishly said, "Well, I dunno what to do 'bout her man problems!"

Ms. Plum gave an exasperated sigh and turned away from him, muttering something that sounded like "oblivious twit."

The perplexed skeleton had no time to wonder about what crucial point he had missed, as there was suddenly a loud commotion from the bar. All eyes in the kitchen turned towards the door as a young, partially decomposed corpse bounded in, yelled, "Oi! Emily's back!" and darted back out as quick as he had come. Bonejangles and the kitchen staff exchanged bewildered looks, then rushed after man, anxious to see what all the fuss was about.

In the bar, all eyes were directed to the middle of the room, where a small crowd had gathered. Bonejangles pushed towards the group, craning his neck around the excited corpses. What he saw in the middle made his jaw drop. Emily kneeled on the floor, tenderly holding a young man in her arms. And although that man was unconscious, he was most certainly alive.

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(**Author's Notes: **I hate when people have ridiculously long-winded Author's Notes in fanfic, so all I'll say is I hope you enjoy it, review if you feel like it, and if you see anything that needs to be worked on or improved, please, please, please, _please _let me know. More to come, probably longer chapters, no guarantees on when. And this is most certainly Bonejangles/Emily. Yum.

Also, formatting is horrible, and much different from when I used to post here ages ago. Raagh.)


	2. Chapter II

**This One's For You**

**Chapter II**

Bonejangles had seemed to arrive in the middle of a long story. Emily was chattering away, looking happier than anyone in the underworld had ever seen her, even as she patted the cheeks of the insentient man below her in an attempt to wake him. From the fringe of the small crowd, Bonejangles strained to hear the end of whatever strange tale had brought a living man into the Land of the Dead.

"-And he seemed rather nervous through it all, though I imagine anyone would on their wedding day!" Emily giggled delightedly, then looked down at the pale figure. "Poor thing, the excitement must have gotten to him. Oh, I wish you had all been there! He said the most wonderful vows, and when he put the ring on my finger-," The dead girl held up her left hand and wiggled her skeletal fingers, showing off the gold ring. She looked up at the ceiling, dreamily. "-It was so beautiful."

Bonejangles suddenly felt as if his stomach had dropped out onto the floor. It was a strange and unexplained sensation, not only because it had been a number of years since he'd actually _had _a stomach, but also because he didn't know what had brought on such a reaction. All he knew was that seeing Emily in the arms of this man- or vice versa, as the case was- felt very, very wrong to him.

No one else seemed to feel the same, however, as they were all grinning at the living boy, giving the new bride congratulatory pats on the shoulder and babbling excitedly amongst themselves. The skeleton sneaked away from the crowd before Emily had a chance to spot him. The odd sick feeling in his chest didn't seem like it would be dissipating any time soon and he knew he wouldn't be able to pretend he was happy for her. Bonejangles didn't want to upset Emily- not now, when she was more cheerful than she had been since before she died. Instead, he skulked over to the pub's stage and leaned against the wall, attempting to look nonchalant as he watched the scene from the shadows.

He pulled his bowler hat down over his empty eye socket, thinking deeply. Why wasn't he happy for Emily? All she had talked about since she had arrived down here was finally finding her true love. It was her passion, her obsession, and sometimes he thought it was the only thing that kept her going. Now, it had finally happened, and instead of celebrating with her, he was eyeing the two contemptuously from across the room, feeling like someone had kicked him in the chest. There was no reason for him to feel this way. Emily was his closest friend and had been for years, ever since the day they had met- the day of her death.

She had been a mess when he'd first come across her; barely dead, and traumatized by what had just happened to her. It was late at night, long after most of the dead citizens of the town had chosen to retire to wherever it was they went when they felt they wanted to sleep. Bonejangles had all but given up sleep since his death- except for when he was drunk, of course- and had gained a tendency to wander around the town at night, running experimental tunes through his head.

He had heard strangled, furious sobbing and found Emily curled up in an alleyway with no idea how she had ended up there. She was quite the sight; hysterical and shaking, still covered with blood from the deadly wound in her temple, but beautiful nonetheless. The strangest thing about her was the wedding dress and veil that she wore. It was obvious she had been murdered, and brutally at that, but Bonejangles couldn't even begin to imagine the terrible circumstances behind her death. The skeleton had approached her slowly, wary of frightening her, but was surprised to find that she was not unnerved by his skinless form, or the news that she was, in fact, dead. On the contrary, she seemed to grow calmer in his presence. Thinking back on it, he guessed that after what she had been through, it must have been a bit of a relief to be dead, if only for those few moments. Regrettably, Emily's relaxed state only lasted as long as it took Bonejangles to ask her how she had died. Reminded of the horrible event, she had lost it again, unable to form words through her mourning cries.

Feeling somewhat guilty and unsure of what to do, the skeleton had decided to bring the newly dead girl to Ms. Plum. Although she had a tendency to be crass with Bonejangles and his band, the woman had a kind and gentle way with people- particularly other women- and Emily wouldn't be the first devastated new arrival to show up on the old cook's doorstep. He'd taken Emily by the hand, prepared to lead her back to the pub, but her legs shook so badly under her that he'd ended up half-carrying her there, his bony arm holding tight to her waist for support.

At the Ball and Socket, Ms. Plum was already up, setting up the bar in case of early-morning drinkers, when Bonejangles had came in with the distressed and bloody bride. He helped her onto the padded bench in the corner of the pub as the cook gasped and rushed around the bar to greet the girl. She had shoved Bonejangles aside and taken Emily's hand, patting it gently.

After calming her down once more, Ms. Plum had coaxed the corpse bride to tell them the story of how she had ended up in their town. "Start at the beginning," the old woman had said, "and don't leave anything out. It's the only way to deal."

And so, over the next few hours, interrupted only by her own aggrieved tears, Emily had told them her story. With Ms. Plum seated beside her, patting the young girl's arm and Bonejangles leaning up against the bench, lounging but listening intently, she had told them of how she had first met Barkis Bittern. She explained to them that she was in love, or _had been_ in love. She told them of all the things he had said to her that had made her feel so giddy and lightheaded, while at the same time realizing they had been nothing but words. She'd told them how her father had refused to let her marry the man, and for the first time had some regretful insight as to why he may have denied her. She'd explained of the elopement the couple had planned during their secret meetings, how he had been adamant that she bring as much of her father's riches as she could, and she lamented that she should have realized that he was crook. Finally, she'd told them every ghastly detail of her cruel slaying; from the anxious and terrifying half hour she had spent waiting for her betrothed in the dark woods, to the moment she had stared up into his horrible, wrathful eyes and felt the crushing blow of the hard object cracking her skull.

When finally she had completed her tale, all three corpses felt an overwhelming emotional exhaustion. Emily's was the first murder to happen in the small town in the land above as far back as anyone could remember, and her harrowing tale was overwhelming just to hear about.

Bonejangles had been the first to meet Emily after her death, had been kind to her during a time when she may have otherwise lost all faith in the goodness of mankind, and had comforted her in her weakest moment. Because of this, an unspoken bond had been formed between the two. Emily seemed to sense this, for at the end of the night she'd felt entirely comfortable hugging the skeleton tightly and thanking him for consoling her. At the time, her openness had left him rather thunderstruck- not that he'd ever admit it.

Ever since then, the two of them had been thick as thieves. He'd gotten to know her beyond her murder, beyond the tragic "corpse bride." He had found a girl in love with music; who danced whenever she felt like it; who was kind and sweet to just about everyone she met, but would rip your head off if you were unfortunate enough to make her mad. Similarly, he found himself telling her more about him than anyone had ever known, living or dead. In fact, she was the only person this side of the Land of the Living who knew how he had died, and he intended to keep it that way.

However, they had expected that after Emily's catharsis on the night of her death, she would have learned to let go of the horrible tragedy that had befallen her. Instead, she seemed to internalize it, and had directed the energy of her depression into an almost obsessive hunt for her one true love. Perhaps this was why Bonejangles felt a strong, undeniable hatred for the pale young man who stood in his pub and, the skeleton noted, now appeared to be fully conscious and brandishing a large sword attached to a midget.

The boy looked positively terrified, staring around the pub with eyes wide as dinner plates and clumsily waving his sword in front of him as if he hadn't noticed the corpse hanging from it. He yelled confused statements in what was obviously supposed to be a threatening tone, but came out a frightened squeak. He looked over at Emily, who was standing by the bar and looked shocked by her new husband's unexpected outburst. He demanded to know who she was, which seemed an odd thing for a groom to ask his bride.

Bonejangles saw the look of apprehension cross Emily's face. She fumbled nervously with the tattered fingers of her gloves, a gesture that betrayed her uneasiness. They both knew that there was no way to answer the man's question without explaining how she had died. Emily hated telling the excruciating tale of her murder, but it was hard to avoid, as it was the first thing everyone wanted to know upon meeting her. She'd told Bonejangles one night that every time she had to re-tell the traumatic and somewhat humiliating story, she felt as if all the wounds her murderer had given her had torn open and started bleeding again. It was then that he'd promised to tell her story for her if anyone felt they needed to know. He'd written her song overnight, extracting the grisly details and romanticizing the more distressing points, and she was delighted with it. It quickly became a favourite in the pub, and Emily's story was transformed into something of a legend.

"That's kind of a long story," she said, anxiously trying to dodge the question.

Bonejangles knew it was his time to step in and rescue her. He remained leaning against the wall, not bothering to even look towards the crowd as he spoke. "And what a story it is!" His voice was calm and somewhat playful, but rang loudly across the pub. All eyes and eye sockets turned towards him and he put aside his musings to step back into his usual carefree and exuberant persona. "A tale of romance, passion and a murder most foul!" He signaled to his band to start up the music and stole a glance over at Emily. She gave him a grateful smile and he grinned back at her.

If there was one thing that could be said about Bonejangles, it was that he knew how to put on a show. As usual, the corpses joined in with unbridled enthusiasm. Bonejangles noticed the absolute terror that this performance seemed to instill in Emily's groom, and the skeleton found a somewhat sadistic enjoyment in scaring the young man out of his wits.

When the song had finished, the bandleader actually found his spirits had lifted quite a bit, after the band had tossed the living boy around and shook him up a bit. He smirked to himself and looked around the pub for Emily, but found that she and the living man had disappeared. With chagrin, he jumped down from the stage, and felt the perplexing sinking feeling return to his chest.

* * *

(**A/N: **I feel special for getting this done in between tests and papers and lab reports. I'm not entirely sure about the accuracy of the quotes from the movie. As usual, all forms of criticism are accepted. I have a feeling Bonejangles may have come off somewhat... girly in this chapter. He's a sensitive soul, really. Shh, don't tell anyone.) 


	3. Chapter III

**This One's For You**

**Chapter III**

The party raged on for a few hours even after the newlyweds had departed. Indeed, most of the residents took quite a while to notice the disappearance of Emily and her new husband, who Bonejangles quickly found out was named Victor. No longer feeling too eager to perform, the skeleton had downed a few drinks, but found that they did nothing for the dull ache that seemed stuck in his chest.

Before too long, the pub-goers dispersed and Bonejangles found himself sitting alone in a corner of the empty bar. Paul was the only other soul in the main lounge, his severed head busily directing his cockroach companions to tidy up. The bandleader wasn't up for conversation, and chose instead to nurse his ale and contemplate the night's events.

Bonejangles really couldn't pin down his take on everything that had happened. Everything seemed to have been turned upside down. All he knew was that he wasn't happy, and that he had an instant, unbridled disliking for the new boy that Emily had dragged down with her. Why was she so keen on the living anyway? Bonejangles had never really had much use for them, even when he was alive. His life had never been too extraordinary, nor had it been incredibly long, and he generally preferred his afterlife. Things were so much more vivid down here. _People_ were a lot more vivid. The living had always seemed so uptight, so self-absorbed. But, he knew that Emily wasn't like him. She'd had a good life and people who she loved, and it had all been taken away from her. She would never enjoy the afterlife as much as she would've enjoyed living her full life, no matter how much more vivacious it was being dead. Perhaps this was why she was so possessed by the notion that her soul mate was still alive.

He would have liked to think that he was uncomfortable with Emily's marriage because of some instinct- some inherent knowledge that Victor was no good. It would have made him feel better to know that his trepidation was just his way of trying to protect her. Ever since they'd met, he'd felt a certain need to guard her, even though she had never asked him to. That was probably the reason he'd written his song for her. He'd taken it upon himself to tell her story, to keep her from the pain of having to tell it herself. He just hated seeing her sad. So, he wouldn't have been surprised if his negative feelings about her wedding were just a premonition of sorts, telling him of trouble ahead. But, he knew this wasn't the case. He had no reason to think that the living boy would ever hurt Emily. Being the nervous wreck that he was, he didn't even seem capable of it. Bore her, maybe, but never hurt her.

If the skeleton wasn't worried about Emily getting hurt, maybe he just didn't like Victor. This was easy to believe, as Bonejangles found that every time he thought of the pasty-faced boy in Emily's arms, he felt a disgusted rage flow over him. But, was it really directed at Victor? Bonejangles had been in the man's presence for all of ten minutes- hardly enough time to form an opinion about someone's character, let alone decide to despise them. Besides, Victor had been scared out of his wits at the time. The skeleton really couldn't pin down what it was that he hated about Victor, which forced him to realize that maybe that wasn't the issue at hand.

It was the two of them together, he realized, that really bothered him. Seeing them newly married, while Emily flounced around, showing off her new ring. Knowing that, somewhere, they were alone together. Just the thought of it made him feel like he needed a very, very big drink.

Upon thinking this, he wandered from his table and leaned over the bar, liberally refilling his glass mug. He noticed that Paul had already left, leaving him to his own devices and the staff that was still banging around in the kitchen. He took a swig from his mug and leaned against the bar. It didn't make sense that seeing Emily and Victor together should upset him. It was what Emily wanted, wasn't it? It was what she had spent all her years as a corpse wishing and praying would happen. All Bonejangles wanted was for her to be happy. He knew that much was true. He sighed and began to trudge back to his chair, entirely lost in his thoughts.

He wanted Emily to be happy, of course. But seeing her happy with Victor seemed wrong. He wanted her to be happy, but he wanted her…

The realization hit him like the sledgehammer that had killed his lead sax player. The glass mug slipped from his hand and hit the wooden floor, smashing into pieces at his feet. _Oh, god._ "I'm in love with Emily!" He didn't realize he had shouted it out loud until he heard it ringing through the empty bar. He would've been mortified by his outburst, if he hadn't been frozen in a state of utter shock; his hand still raised as if holding the mug that was now shattered on the floor.

The doors of the kitchen swung open as Ms. Plum plodded into the front of the pub. "What's going on out here? That better not have been any of the good dishes!" she bellowed, lumbering over to Bonejangles and eyeing the mess of glass and alcohol.

Bonejangles turned to her, his one eye wide as a saucer and his jaw hanging open. "I'm in love with Emily!" he said, stupidly. It seemed to be the only words he could form.

Ms. Plum stared at him a beat, an eyebrow raised and her hands on her hips, then turned nonchalantly to fetch a broom. "And you're just figuring this out now?"

The stunned look was plastered on his face as he watched the woman round the bar. "…What? You… I mean… what? You _knew_?"

The cook rolled her eyes. "I think everyone knew, the way you'd dote on her. We were all wondering if something wasn't going on behind our backs." She walked back to where the skeleton still stood motionless and started to clean the mess at his feet.

Regaining a small part of his senses, Bonejangles took the dustpan from her and stooped to help her sweep up the shards of glass. "I didn't know," he said plainly, the shock still evident in his voice. "I… _everyone_ knew?"

Ms. Plum brushed the last of the glass off the floor and took the dustpan from the skeleton's hand. "You really are oblivious, aren't you?" she said bluntly, but not unkindly, before heading back behind the bar and disposing of what was left of Bonejangles' mug.

The skeleton sat down on the barstool. "She… but… _everyone _knew?" He was too deep in shock to form any words, and it frustrated him. Words were something he had never had any problem with.

The cook looked at him and, seeing the bewildered and somewhat pathetic look in his eye, felt sympathy for him. She sighed. "It's not surprising you didn't see it until now. Emily's spent all her time chasing after a fantasy man. It probably never occurred that you might be able to compete with that."

"But… I love her. I mean… she's beautiful and sweet and- and… I _love _her. And I didn't _notice_?" Bonejangles was mystified about how this could have happened.

"You were her friend. That's what she needed. She wanted some living Prince Charming. It's no wonder you didn't think it could've been you."

The skeleton huffed. "Obviously not."

There was a long silence as Ms. Plum watched Bonejangles stare hard at the wall. Anxious for something to occupy her hands, she picked up a rag and started wiping out a glass that she had pulled out from under the bar. "Anyway," she said. "You certainly picked a fine time to figure this all out."

Bonejangles groaned and dropped his head into his hands. What a day to find out you were in love with your best friend: the day she gets married. "What am I gonna do?" he pleaded, not bothering to lift his head.

"What can you do? She's married now." Bonejangles groaned even louder and let his skull fall right to the table. "Don't you go messing around with them, either," Ms. Plum warned. "It's not poor Victor's fault that you haven't gotten your head on straight until today."

Oh, _poor _Victor, Bonejangles thought, derisively. Still, he knew that the old cook was right. He was stuck now. Stuck watching the couple together for the rest of eternity, while he pretended to be happy. Watching them holding hands and stealing kisses when they thought no one was looking, all the while knowing that if he hadn't been such an idiot, he could've been in Victor's place. Just the thought of it made him feel sick to the stomach he no longer had. "You think Em knew?" he asked Ms. Plum, his head still pressed against the cold bar. "You think she knew how I felt about her?"

The woman paused in thought. After a moment, she answered, "I think she was a bit too focused on her dream lover to notice a whole lot of what was going on around her." The skeleton seemed to almost sink into the bar. Ms. Plum patted his arm. "She still loves you, Bonejangles. You'll always be her dearest friend. That's worth something, ain't it?"

"Guess so," he muttered.

Ms. Plum stayed in the pub for a short while, but Bonejangles was utterly inconsolable. Finally, she left him with a drink and compassionate pat on the shoulder. The skeleton sat alone in the pub, continuing to refill his mug before he even saw the bottom.

He realized that he would have to let Emily go. The fact that he had only just realized what he was losing only seemed to make it worse. He reminded himself for the umpteenth time that she was happy, and that was all that was important. Besides, they would still be friends, wouldn't they? He wasn't _really _losing her, after all. Just because she was married, just because he was filled to the brim with what he now realized was unrelenting jealousy, didn't mean things would have to change… right?

Bonejangles was sloshed nearly out of his senses by the time he decided to stop drinking, but was dismayed to find he still felt terrible. He stumbled drunkenly up to his room above the Ball and Socket and, undershooting the padded coffin he almost never used to sleep in, collapsed onto the floor. As he drifted into an intoxicated sleep, he hoped two things: that he'd remember who he was when he woke up again, and that his assumption that nothing would change between him and Emily would turn out to be true.

* * *

(**A/N: **I didn't like this chapter the first time I read it. At all. I edited a bit, so I'm more content with it now. I'm still not totally happy with it in parts, the pacing in particular. So, tell me what you think. I'm glad that I write Bonejangles girly though, because I don't do anything else girly. At all. Haha. Anyway, we've made the switch from girlyBonejangles to sulkyBonejangles now.) 


	4. Chapter IV

**This One's For You**

**Chapter IV**

As usual, the first thing that Bonejangles thought upon waking up was how thankful he was that the dead were incapable of being hung over. He had a brief moment of mental blankness as he lay staring at the uneven wooden panels of the ceiling. He remembered drinking enough to kill a living man, but why? There was a party. There was Emily. There was…

Bonejangles groaned as the memories of the previous night snapped into focus. Emily and her new husband; Emily and her _true love_; the skeleton's revelation of his secret longing, not to mention the revelation of his unequivocal stupidity. And now morning had come, and it seemed evidently clear that no amount of intoxication was going to get rid of how he felt about Emily. At least it felt like morning. He couldn't really be sure.

He hadn't forgotten his decision, though. Emily had what she needed, or at least what she wanted- a husband- and he couldn't intrude upon that because of some… stupid crush. Still, Bonejangles knew it wasn't that easy. It wasn't some schoolboy's infatuation that would be forgotten in a few months. He also knew he was too late now. He'd have to let Victor have her.

At the thought of Emily's husband, he felt a small pit of rage around where his stomach used to be, like a mob of tiny insects fighting each other. He would have to get over that, too, he supposed. From now on, spending time with Emily would probably mean spending time with Victor, more often than not. Bonejangles harrumphed. This deal was getting worse all the time.

The skeleton didn't bother to remove himself from the splintered wooden floor until he heard a faint melody drifting up from the pub below. It was a slow, melancholy tune- airy, but played deliberately. He picked up his bowler, which had rolled off during his drunken collapse the previous night, and slunk off to investigate.

Peering down from the top of the stairs, he found Emily seated in front of the piano. Her shoulders were slumped and her bony fingers ambled along the keys one-handedly, as if she just couldn't be bothered to lift her other hand. This wasn't an unusual sight; he often came in to find the dead girl at the piano, pouring her heart out into the notes. In fact, he was sure he recognized the gloomy tune she was playing. Still, he tarried at the top of the stairs. This was the first time he had seen her since… well, the stupid thing, and he felt as if he were looking upon a different person. It was all in his mind, of course, but he couldn't help but feel strange seeing Emily, the girl he was in love with, when he used to seeing Emily, his dear but platonic best friend. However, he was more concerned with how sorrowful she looked. Was this the same girl that had been prancing about the pub last night? What had happened to make her look so heart-broken, even as she stepped heavily onto the piano's foot pedals?

Bonejangles descended the stairs, trying hard to look casual and jocular. He slid onto the piano bench beside Emily and grinned, hoping to cheer her up. "Hey," he said, leaning on the keyboard so he could look at her face. "For a gal who just got hitched, you're not looking too cheery."

The bride didn't look up from her hand as it danced along the piano keys. "No," she agreed quietly, her eyes sparkling with tears.

The grin fell from Bonejangles' face. She really _was _upset. He straightened up and shuffled closer to her. Normally, he would've slung his arm around her shoulder consolingly and not really thought anything about it, but he was feeling oddly uncomfortable now. Suddenly, every move he made around her was suspect. Worse than that: it was evidence of his true feelings. "Everything all right?" he asked gently. The question was almost rhetorical. Obviously, everything wasn't all right.

Emily ceased her playing and looked at him then. The tears clung to her eyelashes, but none escaped to roll down her cheeks. With surprising grace, she answered, "Victor has another woman."

At first, the skeleton wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. The pallid young man hardly seemed the womanizing type. Bonejangles blinked his one eye in surprise. When he made no immediate move to respond, Emily leaned into her hands, her elbows striking the keys and sending out a soft jumbled chord. "She's alive, of course. He went off to see his parents and I found the two of them… _together. _Him and his pale-skinned, air-breathing mistress." The last few words were full of resentment, but she closed her eyes and sighed as the anger that had rippled across her features vanished.

The skeleton cocked his head, and in a second attempt to defuse the situation asked, "Did ya' hit him?"

"No," she answered in the same morose tone.

"That's no fair!" Bonejangles said, playfully faking indignation. "You hit me all the time!"

To his relief, a half-smile spread across Emily's face as she raised her head and punched him swiftly in the arm. His yelp of pain was only partly in jest. Obviously, it didn't physically hurt, but he could still feel the blow resonating through his humerus. The fact that someone with such a petite stature could punch so hard never ceased to amaze him. He knew too well how lucky Victor was that Emily had been too distressed to release the full potential of her anger on him. Bonejangles had actually seen her tear the arms off a corpse who had been pestering her in the pub. Granted, she was drunk and he was dead, but he _did_ still have quite a bit of flesh and sinew left at the time. Needless to say, he was a lot more polite to her from then on.

Bonejangles was glad he was able to get Emily to smile, but it faded almost as soon as it had come and she turned back to the piano, tapping out a few random notes. "I left him with Elder Gutkneckt. I couldn't stand to have him watch me cry anymore." With no irony in her voice, she lamented, "Maybe I _should_ have hit him."

"Aw, Em," Bonejangles murmured sympathetically, placing his hand consolingly on her shoulder with only a twinge of hesitation. He would have never guessed that something like this could happen. Victor didn't seem the most ideal man for Emily, but he certainly didn't come off as someone who would abandon her to have a secret tryst with a mystery woman- and a living woman at that. The skeleton hadn't a clue how the dead girl and her fickle husband had made their way to the Land of the Living, which only made the story more bewildering. Bonejangles didn't think it pertinent to ask.

"He said he would never marry me," Emily said, the tears finally spilling down her face. Her voice became more distraught with each word as she spoke; "He seemed so horrified at the thought. As if marrying me were the worst thing he could imagine happening! And that living girl is up there waiting for him. She's beautiful and… and… _alive! _And to him, all I am is a corpse!" She lost it then, breaking down into sobs. She dropped her head onto Bonejangles shoulder bone and he wrapped his arm around her in a well practiced half-embrace.

He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. He knew Emily was comforted enough just having his shoulder to cry on, literally. Anything he could've thought to say at that moment would have been superfluous. As they sat together in silence, his hand resting on her exposed shoulder joint, a strange feeling of déjà vu passed over him. He remembered a time, years ago, which felt eerily similar to this moment.

It had been the one-year anniversary of Emily's death. Of course, the citizens of the Land of the Dead knew there was a good chance that she would be upset on this morbid day. In an attempt to keep her mind off her terrible murder, a few of them had decided to put together the wildest death day party anyone had ever seen, to remind her of all the good things there still were to being dead. The event had been a huge success, and the celebration had gone on strong through the day and into the night. To everyone's surprise, Emily hadn't seemed distressed in the slightest. She had been jovial and cheerful throughout the day, enthusiastically joined in during the skeleton band's boisterous rendition of "Remains of the Day" and had even ventured into some brief details of her death, which was more than she normally offered to anyone but her closest friends.

However, at the end of the long day, things had changed. Emily had been the only one left in the pub, along with a few straggling members of the band, all of whom were engaged in packing up their instruments, with the exception of Bonejangles who was nonchalantly fiddling with a random assortment of percussion instruments. The skeleton had noticed the dead girl sitting on a bench in the corner of the pub, looking forlorn, which was a strange departure from her earlier mood. Abandoning his instruments, he'd gone to sit beside her, and the girl had almost immediately broken down into tears, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. She'd confessed about how awful she really felt, about how she'd spent all day pretending to be happy and not bothered by her murder, but that it really still killed her inside. She'd told him that she was afraid she would never get over it, and that she wished she could just forget about her death, as he had.

It had been then that he'd decided to tell her how he had been killed. It was a story he'd never told before. Most didn't even dare to ask about, and the ones that did only got some coy answer in return. Even those that knew him best were under the impression he'd just forgotten how it had happened. Usually, he just couldn't be bothered to get into it. But telling Emily had felt like the right thing to do, even though it meant breaking to her that, no, you could never forget about your death- or your life- and many didn't ever get over it. For a long while afterwards they had sat together, just the way they were sitting now.

Thinking back on it, he wondered if he'd been in love with Emily even then. In hindsight, it seemed stupid of him not to have noticed the way he felt about her, when they had shared moments like that- dozens of them.

And, he thought indignantly, it had been him that had been there for her, not Victor. Who was this Victor kid anyway? Some breather who had stumbled over her in the woods? She didn't even know him –obviously, since he'd run off to see some other woman. And, yet, he was the one Emily had married. Bonejangles thought it hardly seemed fair. Or was he just being totally selfish?

Either way, his hatred for Victor had increased tenfold. It didn't seem like an irrational jealousy anymore. The living boy had lied to Emily; he'd treated her like dirt and he'd broken her heart. Bonejangles wasn't one to hold a grudge against anyone, but when it came to someone hurting Emily, he found he could harbour quite a bit of spite. At the moment, his malevolence for Victor was second only to his absolute despisal of Emily's murderer.

Bonejangles looked down at the dead girl. Her eyes had dried, but she stared sadly ahead of her, lost in her quiet reflection. "He's an idiot, Em," He said, finally. "Anyone who wouldn't want to marry you is an idiot."

Emily sat up and the skeleton let his hand drop down to her waist. She smiled at him appreciatively. "That's sweet," she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying.

"It's true," he said matter-of-factly, grinning back at her. He watched as she turned away shyly and ran her finger along the edge of the piano keys subconsciously. He was struck with a sudden desire to wrap his arms around her, profess his undying love and convince her to leave her stupid husband- possibly after kicking him around a bit.

Come to think of it, would that really be such a terrible thing? Not in such dramatic tones, of course. Maybe not ask her to run away with him. But with her marriage not being all it was cracked up to be, would it be so wrong of him to just let her know what she meant to him? Maybe she'd realize that she didn't have to spend the rest of eternity with some guy who would lie to her just to see his secret paramour. Maybe it was what she'd been waiting for, and neither of them had known it. At the very least, she would know that _someone _cared for her.

"Hey, Em," Bonejangles said carefully. "Can I tell ya' something?"

The dead girl looked at him inquisitively, cocking her head at the hesitant tone in his voice. "Of course."

The skeleton opened his mouth once, then shut it again. How would he put all that he felt and that had happened since the previous night into words, without sounding too pathetic? "Em… I-,"

A loud commotion erupted from somewhere above the bar, and the two corpses both snapped their heads away from each other and towards the stairs. They heard shouts and the unmistakable bone-on-bone clanging of a skeleton brawl. One of the band members came dashing to the railing and shouted down, "Bonejangles! Ya' gotta break these guys up! They're killin' each other! Well… not really. But they're breaking our stuff!"

Bonejangles couldn't believe the horrible timing. He glanced at Emily, then back up towards the clamor of the fight that was echoing down from upstairs. He sighed heavily, as if merely annoyed by the inconvenience and not completely crushed, and started towards the stairs. Before he could walk out of her reach, Emily grabbed his wrist. "Wait," she said. "You were going to tell me…"

The skeleton turned around and, as coolly as he could muster, winked at her. "Don't worry, babe. It can wait."

* * *

(**A/N: **Hehe. I definitely referred to this as "Worst Episode Ever" for awhile. As usual, upon re-reading I realized that I was being over-critical, but this chapter's just a tad too sappy for me. However, necessary! Next chapter should probably have more hitting and anger, which is the kind of thing I enjoy. I'll be in England for the next week and a bit, so it might be awhile before the next chapter. Till then, kids.)


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